


Trust

by DottyasaDalmation



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Brothers, Depressed d'Artagnan, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 12:05:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4391237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DottyasaDalmation/pseuds/DottyasaDalmation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene(s) from S1 Ep8 after d'Artagnan has been told his farm has been destroyed by Labarge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust

d’Artagnan blinked back tears as he sat slumped near the garrison entrance. He wouldn’t cry, not if there was any chance of someone seeing. But then again, what else did he have to lose? His dignity he supposed but he would hold on to that for as long as he could. He had little else. Yes, Treville had told him he could participate in next week’s competition but where was he to get 30 livres from? He hadn’t had any money from his farm for a while and now he knew why. At the present moment he had no money and now no income either since Labarge had burned down his farm. If he had no money, there was no prospect of entering let alone winning and achieving his dream of becoming a true Musketeer. Constance wouldn’t be interested in him now: he couldn’t even pay the rent at present so technically he had no home either. It was only a matter of time before he was thrown out onto the streets so he might as well just pack his things and go now sparing himself the indignity and embarrassment of being thrown out. 

His companions had already done so much for him, he couldn’t burden them with his troubles - not when they were scheming to get their own 30 livres entrance fee and had their own hopes of winning themselves. d’Artagnan had put everything into his training, consigning his father’s death to the back of his mind but this situation had pushed him to his limits and into depression. He had had enough. He was done with everything and everyone. His only option now, as he saw it, was to leave the Musketeers. He thought himself no use to anyone and didn’t wish to impose any longer on his newest companions. 

d’Artagnan heaved himself to his feet and walked out onto the Parisian streets that he now called home - not just figuratively but now literally as well. He returned to his lodgings, put his few belongings into a bag, first ensuring no-one was home, and left. He thought about where he would go. He couldn’t go to the Court of Miracles as that would be the first place Porthos would look if he chose to find him but d’Artagnan doubted his friends would bother. Surely he wasn’t worthy of them, he was a complete failure. He was to blame for his father’s death (it was him who suggested stopping at the inn); he almost killed Athos in a duel (maybe ‘almost’ was the wrong word he thought- really he hadn’t had a chance of killing him); then he jeopardised the mission with Vadim; and now he had lost his father’s farm that had been entrusted to him. He could go on and on listing his failures. In his depressed state of mind he forgot all the good things he had done and his positive influence on the three inseparables. As he dwelled on these negative thoughts he wondered aimlessly further and further from the garrison. Eventually he ended up at an obviously abandoned house. 

He decided it was as good a place as any to spend the night and wearily sank down. He was tired and hungry. Having almost no money for the last week or two meant he had only really eaten once a day and he had spent his last coins the previous day. He huddled up against the chill of the evening and tried to sleep wondering if he would fall prey to any thieves or murderers. He was too depressed to care anyway: if his life ended that night then so be it. 

d’Artagnan spent three days either huddled in doorways or wandering the streets, keeping mainly to the back alleyways desperately searching for a morsel of food to ease the gnawing pains in his stomach. He found very little to satisfy his hunger and fell deeper and deeper into depression. When he was huddled in the doorway with only his own thoughts for company he was close to tears. 

On the fourth day he awoke feeling even more depressed and extremely weak with hunger. He slowly got to his feet and found himself heading towards the market place. The smell of the food was too hard to resist. Even stale bread or mouldy cheese would have tasted divine at that moment. d’Artagnan found himself next to a pile of apples. The stall holder was engrossed in haggling with a customer so he reached out and grabbed the nearest apple without consciously realising he was stealing. Lost in his own world of misery and hunger he was shocked to discover his wrist caught tightly. He resigned himself to fate and whatever punishment was coming his way: he was well passed caring by this point. If they decided to hang him, well, that would be an end to his misery. He was unable to think clearly so was confused when a familiar voice commanded, ‘Don’t say anything.’ He didn’t know what to think when he looked up to find it was Athos who had a tight grip on him but the soldier in him heard the stern order to be silent and obeyed. Athos tossed a coin to the stall holder and led d’Artagnan away from the market place. 

Even in his weakened, depressed, confused state, d’Artagnan could tell Athos was both angry with and concerned about him. It wasn’t until they reached Athos’ rooms that he graced him with a glare and roughly pushed him onto the bed. ‘Don’t move. Don’t speak’, were his only words spoken curtly. Several minutes later a large bowl of food was placed in his hands. Without thinking, d’Artagnan ate ravenously barely tasting the hearty stew nor noticing the other two inseparables arriving. Athos refilled the bowl and handed it back to his younger brother but, with the edge taken off his hunger, d’Artagnan’s stubbornness returned. He refused it saying he was fine. ‘Don’t lie to me, you are clearly not fine. Eat. Or I’ll make you.’  
‘Better do what he says,’ Aramis and Porthos both added. d’Artagnan looked at each of his friends and didn’t have the energy to resist. He took the second helping and wolfed it down almost as quickly as the first. When he had finished, Athos took the bowl and Aramis checked him over for injuries not trusting d’Artagnan to tell them the truth. He discovered nothing serious and declared he just needed a good scrub to get the dirt of the streets off him. Porthos and Athos set to boiling water and preparing a bath. During all this time the inseparables communicated through looks and very few words. If d’Artagnan tried to speak he was firmly told to be quiet and rest. d’Artagnan didn’t have the energy to argue nor did he have the energy to resist when he was stripped, bathed, dried and placed in Athos’ bed. He was asleep seconds after Athos told him to rest saying they would talk in the morning. 

The three men sat around the bed quietly discussing the foolishness of d’Artagnan’s latest incident. ‘Honestly, I don’t know what that boy is thinking sometimes. I know he lost his farm and that was a huge blow but why didn’t he talk to us, let us help him instead of just disappearing and causing us, and Constance, days of worry.’ Athos shook his head staring at the floor.  
Aramis looked over at Athos, ‘It’s his stubborn Gascon pride that’s his problem. He probably didn’t want to worry us with his problems as usual. I just want to shake him or slap some sense into him. I don’t know when he will realise he is not a burden to us. On the contrary, it is a blessing he found us. Life has been far better since he joined us.’  
Porthos nodded. ‘I agree. Athos, I’ve almost seen you smiling once or twice since he came rushing into our lives and Aramis you haven’t been having as many nightmares now you have someone else to look out for. But how do we get it into his head that he is one of us. A brother. Brothers who look out for each other and share their problems?’ He gave half a smile and looked at Aramis, ‘If I knew it would work, I would happily slap or shake some sense into him too.’  
Athos grunted in agreement. ‘I’ll talk to him in the morning. Tell him of the responsibilities brothers have for each other. Talking of which, we need to get some sleep ourselves or we won’t be much use in the morning. I’ll take first watch. Make sure he doesn’t wake up and try to slip out during the night. Porthos you take the second and Aramis the third.’ 

The sun rose to find Athos uncomfortably slouched on his chair with his feet resting on the bed; Porthos snoring with his head on his folded arms resting on the table; and Aramis sitting on the bed watching a still sleeping d’Artagnan. He reached out and gently pushed a stray lock of hair away from his face. ‘Oh d’Artagnan, when will you get it through your thick skull that we are your brothers and care for you,’ he whispered. ‘You’ll drive us to an early grave with all the worry you cause us.’ He got to his feet and busied himself getting washed and ready for the day ahead. Porthos and Athos stirred soon after. When they were ready, they all stood round the bed and looked down at d’Artagnan. ‘I’ll stay here with him and give him that talk I promised. Porthos, report to Treville and explain what has happened. Aramis, go and let Constance know on your way to the garrison.’  
They left, Aramis muttering to Porthos about drawing the short straw and trying to negotiate a swap rather than facing an upset Constance. 

It was about ten minutes later that d’Artagnan awoke. As soon as he realised where he was he shot up, told Athos he shouldn’t be here, and proceeded to stride towards the door. Athos just stood by the door with his arms crossed staring him down.  
‘Let me past, Athos.’  
Athos simply raised an eyebrow and continued to stare at him in silence.  
‘Come on Athos. You have no right to keep me here against my will.’  
Athos’ expression grew stormy. He grabbed d’Artagnan and roughly pushed him into the nearest chair. ‘And you, brother, have no right walking out on us like that. How dare you leave without saying anything. Do you know how worried we’ve all been about you?’  
He didn’t have the opportunity to say any more as a sharp rap at the door interrupted him. A second later Constance burst through the door like a whirlwind. She marched over to d’Artagnan and slapped him, hard. ‘How could you just disappear like that?’ she scolded. ‘Do you know how worried I was about you? Anything could have happened. For all I knew you could have been dead on the streets. How could you do that to me … I… I…’ She broke down in tears and hugged him tightly. ‘Uhh, don’t you ever do anything like that to me again.’ She felt Athos’ hand on her shoulder and stepped back, releasing d’Artagnan from her embrace. d’Artagnan just sat there for a moment stunned by the force of her slap and her emotional reaction then lowered his head ‘I’m really not worth bothering about,’ he said quietly. Constance grew angry again at that comment but Athos gently but firmly took her aside, told her he would deal with this and suggested she carry on with her day. He would send d’Artagnan round to apologise once he had talked some sense into him. 

Athos brought the other chair over and sat facing d’Artagnan placing a comforting hand on his knee, ‘I now know things have been difficult for you recently and that Labarge has not helped matters but he is behind bars now and will face justice for his crimes.’ The younger man was about to protest but Athos raised his hand to silence him and continued. ‘And, no, I realise that won’t get your farm back, and I know that farm was your only source of income. But you have three brothers here who are ready and desperate to help and who hold you in high regard. You are my brother d’Artagnan and I couldn’t bear to lose another one. You remind me so much of Thomas. Do you realise how important you are to us?’  
‘You would all do better without me. And I have no wish to be a burden on any of you. Please, just let me go.’  
‘No brother, I can’t. You may not have been aware of the changes you have brought about with your presence but I can tell you we are all the better for it. Aramis is sleeping better now he has someone else to focus on rather than on his past nightmares. Porthos is relishing having someone to look up to him and someone to teach all his dirty tricks to, as well as someone to listen to his tales of, admittedly embellished, exploits. And me,’ he sighed and rubbed his face with his hand, ‘I have begun to move on from Anne and Thomas. I don’t need a drink as badly as I used to. Like it or not, it doesn’t change the fact that you are stuck with us and we are stuck with you - as brothers. Brothers who have responsibilities for each other. You need our help today, I may need your help next week, Aramis could need our help next month and so on. We need to trust and depend on each other. That’s how it works between brothers. Don’t ever think you are a burden to us’.  
d’Artagnan looked at Athos after he had finished this unusually long and heartfelt speech. It was obvious they all cared for him and he began to see just how self-centred and stubborn he had been. ‘I’m sorry Athos. I don’t know what came over me, I guess everything caught up with me. I’m sorry I tried to deal with this myself but I didn’t want you all to think I was weak and helpless. I promise I’ll trust you to help in the future.’ He smiled shyly, ‘I’ll come back, if you’ll have me.’  
‘Idiot,’ Athos gave a rare half smile and pulled d’Artagnan into an even rarer brief hug, slapping his back as he pulled away. ‘Of course we’ll have you. Who else can we boss around and tease? Come on. Let’s get to the garrison, discuss how you could go about getting your entry fee and do some training. You can repay us once you win that competition.’ d’Artagnan smiled and allowed Athos to lead him out. He had quite a few apologies to make, and a few debts to repay but they could wait for now. For now he was back where he belonged - with his brothers. He had a sense that there would be further troubles ahead but he could trust in his brothers to be there: he wouldn’t let them down or run from them again.


End file.
